In outline dim and vast Their fearful shadows cast The giant forms of empires on their way They tower and they are gone, Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice stay. No sun or star so bright In all the world of light That they should draw to Heaven his downward eye: He sees the angel's sword, Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie. Lo! from yon argent field, One gentle Star glides down, on 'earth to dwell. Chained as they are below Our eyes may see it glow, And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well. To him it glared afar, A token of wild war, The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath : But close to us it gleams, Its soothing lustre streams Around our home's green walls, and on our church-way path. We in the tents abide Which he at distance eyed Like goodly cedars by the waters spread, While seven red altar-fires Rose up in wavy spires, Where on the mount he watched his sorceries dark and dread. He watched till morning's ray On lake and meadow lay, And willow-shaded streams, that silent sweep Around the bannered lines, Where by their several signs The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan sleep. He watched till knowledge came Upon his soul like flame, Not of those magic fires at random caught: But true Prophetic light Flashed o'er him, high and bright, Flashed once, and died away, and left his darkened thought. And can he choose but fear, Who feels his God so near, That when he fain would curse, his powerless tongue Alas! the world he loves Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath flung. Sceptre and Star divine, Who in Thine inmost shrine Hast made us worshippers, O claim Thine own; O teach our love to grow Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou has sown. FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. (The Lilies of the Field.) Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies, Fall'n all beside the world of life, How is it stained with fear and strife! VOL. IV. But cheerful and unchanged the while Your first and perfect form ye show, The stars of heaven a course are taught Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, They cannot brook our shame to meet- Ye fearless in your nests abide Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, Your silent lessons, undescried By all but lowly eyes: For ye could draw th' admiring gaze Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour, As when He paused and owned you good; His blessing on earth's primal bower, Ye felt it all renewed. What care ye now, if winter's storm Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form? Alas! of thousand bosoms kind, That daily court you and caress, How few the happy secret find Of your calm loveliness! 'Live for to-day! to-morrow's light ALL SAINTs' Day. Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind, How quiet shews the woodland scene! Like weary men when age is won, Sure if our eyes were purged to trace The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, So in Thine awful armoury, Lord, Till willing hearts wear quite away Their earthly stains; and spotless shine The Cross by angel hands impressed, The seal of glory won and pledge of promised rest. Little they dream, those haughty souls Whom empires own with bended knee, So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes, Think ye the spires that glow so bright But sure from many a hidden dell, From many a rural nook unthought of there, Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer. On, Champions blest, in Jesus' name! Short be your strife, your triumph full, Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise and joy. UNITED STATES. [From Lyra Apostolica.] Tyre of the farther West! be thou too warned, |